


Father's Day

by DeutchRemy



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Cabin, Father and daughter, Father's Day, Fluff, Hop&El, eggos, life with Hop, season1.5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-06-20
Packaged: 2021-03-04 07:22:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24829783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeutchRemy/pseuds/DeutchRemy
Summary: El, Hop, and Father's Day in the cabin.  Season 1.5.  Pure fluff.  Reviews greatly appreciated.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Jim "Chief" Hopper
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	Father's Day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [caffinatedcollectorduck](https://archiveofourown.org/users/caffinatedcollectorduck/gifts).



Friday June 15, 1984  
5:45 PM

“what is...father’s day?” The girl asks me as I step in the door and hang my hat on its hook.

“Where’d you hear that?”

“the tee-vee.”

“Oh. Well, um, Father’s Day is a day that happens every year where we, uh, celebrate fathers.”

“like Papa?” She tilts her head to the side and looks me in the eye.

“Uh, no. We don’t celebrate Papa.” I scratch my chin and try to formulate an answer that won’t confuse the kid. “Uh, we talked about how Papa isn’t really your papa, right?”

“yes...” then, “...are you my papa now?”

“Um, in...in a way. I, uh, I do things for you that a father does for his kids. I take care of you, I feed you, I protect you, I teach you. Um, I read to you. So yeah, I’m sort of a papa to you.”

El seems to mull this over for a few seconds before responding “okay.” and turning back to the TV set.

Sunday, June 17, 1984  
6:33 AM

tap tap tap tap tap

I’m lying on the ground, on my back, beneath a tiny tree, staking out a drug den. Yeah, most of my body is visible, but it’s still an awesome hiding place. 

tap tap tap tap

And yet there’s this god awful little branch that keeps tap tap tapping my forehead! Why is it doing that? Doesn’t it know I’m working?

tap tap tap tap tap

Suddenly there’s a…a heavy weight on my thighs. Ouch! 

Wait a second, something’s not right here...

tap tap

I open my eyes to find El staring down at me. 

She’s kneeling on me, her bony little knees digging hard into my blanket-trapped legs. 

“What - what time is it?” I slur.

“six-three-three.”

“6:33. In the morning?” I look at my watch. “Yep, in the morning. Why you up so early, kid? You feelin’ alright?” I palm her forehead. Just warm from sleep, I think.

“breakfast.”

“Huh?”

“breakfast. eat.”

“You wanna eat now? Kid, it’s Sunday morning.”

She shifts a bit, her bony little knees letting up pressure only to jam themselves painfully into other spots on my poor thighs.

I move my legs, jostling her gently. She gets the message and climbs off of me, shoving the heel of her palm into my gut for balance, and kneels on the mattress between me and the wall.

“hungry...” She continues her verbal assault. 

“Kid, it’s too early for me, okay? You go ahead and eat and I’m just gonna sleep a bit more.” I roll onto my side, facing away from her, hoping she’ll leave me alone.

Apparently not. She’s poking at my back now.

“wake up...” She whines.

“No whining, El.”

“but...want to eat with you.”

“Kid, we always eat breakfast together on the weekends, just not til like, 8 or 9. What’s so different about today?”

“hungry now.”

“No, you're not hungry. It’s too early for you to be hungry. Why don’t you lie down and try to sleep for another hour or two? Then we’ll eat, I promise.”

There’s a bit of shuffling behind me and then the girl lays down, pressing herself against my back. She sighs loudly.

“El. I meant in your own bed. Or the couch. Not here.”

She whines again, grumpy that not only am I refusing to eat with her yet, but that now I’m kicking her back into her own room.

“El, I said no whining.”

She keeps it up, though, so I roll over again onto my back, sigh loudly and say, “Okay, look. I’m going to set my alarm for...8:00...”

“eight...zero-zero.”

“...that’s not even two hours, alright? And then we’ll make Eggos. So go on and get your little butt back into your bed and close your eyes, and before you know it my alarm’ll be going off. Okay?”

“...okay.” She huffs.

She sits up and climbs over me again, nearly knocking the wind out of me as she once again jams her palms into my poor gut.

“Jesus, kid, gentle, please!” I rub my probably-bruised abdomen through my tee shirt and watch out of the corner of my eye as the girl settles on the sofa.

“Didn’t I say your room?”

“you said bed or couch.”

She’s right. I did.

“Okay, well just close your eyes and sleep, okay?”

7:21 AM

The kid’s been tossing and turning on the damn couch since she laid down, and I haven’t gotten another wink of sleep.

“El. Lie still.” I mumble. “Sleep.”

“can’t.”

“Well just try, okay? For the sake of your old man.”

“who?”

“Me, kid. Talkin’ about me.”

“not old. not like Papa.”

“Thanks, kid. Now sleep.”

Silence prevails for five minutes and I think I’m in the clear, that she must have fallen asleep. Then she shifts again, rustling against the fabric of the couch, and I sit upright. I look at my watch. 7:27 AM. Jesus, close enough.

“Alright, kid, up. Up up up, let’s eat.”

The child practically bolts off of the sofa and careens into the kitchen, throwing open the freezer door with her mind before she even crosses the threshold. 

“Slow down, slow down.” Jesus Christ, why is this kid so damn hungry? She ate plenty yesterday. 

I step into the kitchen and take the box of frozen waffles from her hands. 

“Okay, you need to sit down at the table. I’m going to prepare breakfast before you hurt yourself.”

She does as I tell her and sits, but is practically bouncing up and down in her seat as I stick four Eggos in the toaster. Did this girl get into my coffee or something?

“Gotta pee, kid?”

“no.”

“No? Then what’s with all the bouncies, huh?”

She stops and sits still, fingers laced together, something she picked up from me. She settles for swinging her legs back and forth under the table.

The Eggos pop up and I quickly plate and butter all four (don’t trust that kid not to burn her fingers) before carrying them to the table.

I slide her plate in front of her and turn around to grab some cutlery. When I turn back she’s gone.

“El...?”

Guess she had to pee after all. I take my seat at the table.

She returns a moment later with a piece of paper. Mouth full of waffle, I use my knife to point towards her plate.

“C’mon, siddown and eat before it gets cold.”

Instead she stands next to me and hands me the paper.

“What’s this?”

It’s a drawing. Two little stick figures standing next to a table. On the table is a stack of waffles and what appears to be a bottle of syrup. It’s us.

“fathers day.” She explains.

I feel a tightening in my throat. Oh my god, I’m gonna cry. I guess this is why she was so antsy; she wanted to give me my gift at breakfast and just couldn’t wait.

Must not must not must not cry in front of this little girl. She’ll think she did something wrong.

I can’t speak. If I speak I’ll cry. So I pull the kid in for a big bear hug instead, crushing her against my side. I plant a kiss on her left cheek before releasing her, having found my voice.

“Th-thank you, El. This is beautiful. It really, uh, it really m-means a lot to me.”

“you’re welcome.” She says sweetly before heading back to her own seat and digging into her own waffles.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm really, really pleased with this story, except for the very end. I have absolutely no idea how to write good endings that don't feel rushed.


End file.
